Geralt of Winterfell
by Mr. Soze
Summary: It was during the Age of Heroes- a time of magic, wonder and song- that the Others were last seen, having been defeated by the Last Hero. Now the Others are back, but a time of wonder and song has come to an end. The Age of Blood, Iron and Vengeance has come. This age doesn't need a hero. It needs a butcher of men, slayer of beasts. A professional.
1. Chapter 1: Law of Surprise

**Disclaimer** : I don't own anything creative that I could possible make a living on.

Summary: It was during the Age of Heroes- a time of magic, wonder and song- that the Others were last seen, having been defeated by the Last Hero. Now the Others are back, but a time of wonder and song has come to the end. The Age of Blood, Iron and Vengeance has come. This age doesn't need a hero. It needs a butcher of men, slayer of beasts. A professional.

* * *

 **Geralt of Winterfell**

Chapter 1: The Law of Surprise

* * *

283 AC- Riverrun, Riverlands

Eddard

Ned couldn't recall the last time he made an escape like this, certainly never during any of the battles or engagements that he and his bannermen have participated in on their way south of the Neck. He traversed Mountains of the Moon on his way to the North as Gulltown rose against Lord Jon. Its ports becoming inaccessible to him. He fought the harsh nature of the mountains and men of mountain clans, and once in the North, he raised 20,000 men. It was the best he could do on short notice and yet the unruliness of his northern lords gave him as much trouble as an army made of 100,000 swords. But he proved himself, and they obeyed. He was no craven. No man could make that claim of him. And yet, as he leaned forward, his elbows resting against the hard battlement of the Tully household's wall, all he felt was relieve having escaped a feast thrown for him and Lord Jon. Even if for only a short moment.

A short moment. That's what his life felt like now. Ever since he went North and called his banners to wage war in the south; ever since he received news about his brother's death, his father's death and his own subsequent death sentence issued by royal decree- life moved quickly. Too quickly. Like the rivers around Tully's castle or the spinning wine in his cup.

Or like this wedding. _Damn it._

As he moved south with his army, Jon Arryn commended his Knights of the Vale and moved west and joined up with him in Riverrun after he managed to suppress few houses loyal to the crown. Both of them met up with Hoster Tully with hopes of rallying him to their side- to Robert's side and to their cause against the Mad King. Jon brought news with him from the east. Robert having been victorious thrice in Stormlands and even manage to rally Lords that he defeated to his side, bolstering his numbers further. He also suffered a defeat in Reach- _Hopefully his last-_ and was moving his forces north with the intention of joining up with all of them. Once he arrives they would prepare their march on King's Landing. To topple Targaryen dynasty. _To take justice for my family and find my sister._ But Robert wasn't here. Not yet. The last missive he sent to Jon spoke of his intentions of marching to Stoney Sept and having them join him there. Forces of Reach were nipping at his heels. Randyll Tarly. A hard man with iron will and quick military wit. _A dangerous man,_ I would be the first one to acknowledge that. There's no shame in it. It would be best to bolster their forces before meeting him. And that's what they decided to do.

He and Jon came prepared for their meeting with Lord Tully. They expected Hoster to demand hard concessions from them both, concessions in terms of marriages for his lords and larger command in the field. He took more from them. Hoster had two daughters and both Jon and Robert were unmarried. Arranged marriage for the benefit of the rebellion were expected and yet he did not know what promises he could make on Robert's behalf, especially with him still deeply in love with his sister and being his lordly equal. He had no authority over him. _Robert never did get along with those telling him what to do._ Even Lord Jon, who they both loved and whose advice they took heed of, was only able to steer Robert in a particular direction on rarest of occasions. He could offer his younger brother Benjen as a replacement for Catelyn, for the promised husband she lost. For the brother he lost to the Mad King.

" _It must be you Lord Eddard, no one else",_ Lord Tully's voice knock air out of my lungs. His words were like paradoxes maesters would throw at children under their tutelage just to see them spin in a spot. A punishment for disobeying instructions or not paying attention to their letters. " _My daughter will marry you. A Lord of Winterfell, not your brother who inherits nothing... Do you not know? A raven from House Waynwood came a night ago. I thought you heard..."_

Ned took a drink from his cup as he eyed the rivers below before pouring the remains out. Wine, he decided, tasted bitter. Everything did. The rest of the conversation was like a blur to him. Words blurred together like tiny blades of grass that get swallowed into the huge green plain. And he was a passenger on fastest of horses, riding not the land and the grass, but the color green. His eyes unable to grasp at the tiniest of details. He was re-introduced to Catelyn, his brother betrothed and Jon meet her sister, his now new wife to be. Within that same hour both Lords were married in the sept in Tully castle. Words were spoken, oaths were made and alliance was formed. Jon of the Vale married for the third time. Eddard of the North for the _second._

"Madeleine", her name escaped his lips. He said her name once more with utmost longing as if it was a magic spell that would bring her back to life and into his arms. Beautiful Madeleine who he met while fostering. Madeleine, his first love and mother to his child. Today's news was still fresh on his mind. Things were happening to fast, he struggled against the raging current he found himself in.

"Madeleine", her name came out like gentle whisper he often murmured to her before kissing her awake. Those gentle days seemed like a distant memory tonight. He tried grasping them and holding on to them with all his might. They were fleeting.

A hand rested on his shoulder and Ned jolted upright as if the coldest of winds blew past him. He stared one last time to the rivers below, watching his cup free fall before turning around toward his wife.

Catelyn. Catelyn Stark. He reminded himself.

She looked pretty and happy as she should on her wedding day; her dress was made with piousness in mind and yet the artful needlework and subtle colors provided ample evidence of this being a wedding feast- a joyful occasion-and not a visit to a sept. He could not bring himself to share in her joy. She was clothed in joy and he in sadness. He found it to be an appropriate state of things. As if the world made a little more sense if they were in disagreement on this day.

"Have I been missing too long?" I wonder how long I stood overlooking the walls. Time has not been my friend today. I had trouble grasping it. I knew how lords could be. The northern lords viewed me still as a boy that was fostered away. Unknown to them and they to me. But things were getting better. They enjoyed a firm hand no matter how much they resisted it. Men of Umbers, Karstarks, Boltons. They were thirsty. Thirsty for war and blood. I would sate that thirst. And get my justice and their respect along the way. _I would need it all_ , I mused. _They are in the hall, partially drink their sorrows over my southern bride and out of impatience to begin the campaign in its fullest._

She took a moment to assess me before answering. She looked at me up and down, like a worried lady wife would at her troubled husband. She must have noticed my tired expression because she quickly smiled as if to reassure my worries. Or hers. "I don't think so. All of the lords from the North, Vale and Riverlands are merry and cheerful. Each eats and drinks for ten men. And with this being a feast shared between two pairs of married lords and ladies… well, I think there is too much happening for anyone to notice anything." She took a step and looked out beyond her father's walls, out toward the setting sun where the golden rays offered last light of the day, before the moon and the stars would let their presence be known by illuminating the forests and the fields in gentle glow. "Father has thrown a grand feast. For his daughters and their husbands. The likes of which I never seen before." Lord Hoster Tully. I did not care for him tonight. His presence became intolerable to me and it might remain so till my dying breath. _Some things can't be forgiven._

Uncomfortable silence fell upon them. Yet Ned found himself enjoying it. Since he heard the grave news he has had no time for himself. To think. To process. _Dark Wings, Dark Word_ _s_ _._ The raven offered shocking news and little joy, only faint hope for his son. Who, despite being born health was at death's door. Like his wife used to be.

Madeleine.

Not Catelyn.

Unlike him, his new wife didn't share his enthusiasm for silent musing. She fidgeted from the corner of his eye and played with the hem of her dress before turning to him with apologetic look. She was eager to break the silence. His only joy. "I must ask for your forgiveness, my lord. For the unkind words my father said. Or rather for the words he didn't. I am sorry for your loss and that you were forced to marry so quickly without time to grieve."

She stopped and expected me to thank her for her kind words and reassure her own fears in some way.

I did not.

No one has re-assured me. Not even Jon. He shared my faith. We both married together despite our grieve for my wife and his niece. Perhaps that is why I have been given a moment of rest, alone staring over the battlements. This was the only relieve Jon was able to afford me. A moment that died quicker than the pause between two heartbeats of my aching heart.

"I hope that you may find me to be a dutiful and supporting wife. To share your burdens with. I have no ways of knowing your pain, lord husband. Your loss. Your brother, he was dear to me. I hope to-"

I interrupted her more harshly then I planned, but the words that I said were of exact nature I intended.

I would not lie.

"Let's dispense with half-truths and fiction. My brother was 'dear' to you? You do not know the words you speak of. He was my brother before he was anything to you, and during the time you have known him that hasn't changed. What have you learned about him, that I didn't know already know, through few letters that you exchanged during your time and one time when he visited other than that he can carve any boy your father could foster from the naval to neck. You have lost no one."

I have suddenly became aware how out of breath I felt. It's as if I was scaling mountain tops with Robert as we did in our youth in Vale despite Jon's numerous warnings. But we forged ahead. As I did now.

"My sister is still lost to me. My brother strangled to death and my father burned for nonexistent slights and threats. And myself? I find myself fighting in a war I never thought I would fight. To protect Lord Jon who protected Robert and I despite the danger it would mean for him. Fighting together with Robert for a glimmer of hope that I will exact some justice for myself and mine. I have been faithful. I upheld my honor at every step. Yet I am greeted with ill news. The son I never seen, my Geralt born healthy and safe struggling for his young life now. My wife who healed well and quickly after birth suddenly struck and killed by illness. Both with coughing sickness. Struggling to take a breath while I am helpless."

My grip tightened on Catelyn's arm. When did I grasp her? I couldn't remember. But her frightened look would be etched into my mind forever.

"And who delivers me this news? Of my wife passing. Of my child's fate. Your father, who informs me in one breath of my wife's death while in the other introducing me to a new one. I know of his intent. Starting tomorrow we may be marching together, on the same side. But today the reality differs. In his heart of hearts, he hopes for my son to die so his own blood may one day rule over mine. He has placed his bets. He said so himself. _Your wife succumb to an illness..._ _Your son..._ _Yes, same as your wife's...You must marry. For the sake of the future, our alliance and your house._ Empty words _"_ The only thing I didn't know was if she shared in her father's desires. Or if she would wait and in the future grow into them at her own leisure.

I let go of her and look over the castle walls. The sun has set and all light died with it, but there was no moon or stars tonight. Clouds obstructed them all, and instead the world was covered in a thin layer of black. Tears are in my eyes and take my hand to my face. I feel shame. I am drowning in it.

Its not fair. To either of us.

"I am sorry, my lady."

I know not what else to say. Her face softens and so does mine.

"I am fine, my lord. My words...I have said things that I shouldn't have." Silence descended on us. This time I too found it unbearable.

"No. You have done what any wife would do. Married only a short while ago at the command of your father and already doing your duty. I apologize. The fault is mine." I placed my hands on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. She understood my intent as I noticed she didn't flinch away. "I shall try to never again cause you any more distress in the future, my lady wife. I swear. But tonight I can only do my duty."

"Duty?"

I nodded in confirmation. "I hold no love for you. The bond that you seek to form between us won't happen during this feast, the bedding or months after. I have no love to give now. So perhaps, over the future years we can build our affection piece by piece so that it may withstand anything. All I can offer tonight is to be caring and gentle. To complete our duty so we may both uphold the oaths we swore as a man and wife before the Old Gods and the New." I move toward the doorway. The sounds and the smell of the feast assault my senses. It is surprising how far few steps can take you.

I hold out my hand and Lady Stark takes it. Her hand is warm. Madeleine's hands always been cold. Like winter. She looks at me and gives me a small smile. Its a kind of smile that wants to be bigger but is restrained by the wearer. I find myself appreciating her courtesy.

"I understand Lord Stark. Love that lasts...it is something I want to strive for as well. Let the future be about love. Duty is easier. At least for tonight." Under these sad and cruel circumstances, I wanted to add but didn't.

"Call me Ned." Madeleine called me that.

We walk hand in hand back to the feast. It's best this way. Knowing my duty has always made things easy for me. Hopefully this would be no different.

I imagined that Catelyn's warm hand turns cold. It was easier now.

* * *

283 AC- Tower of Joy, Dorne

Eddard

I was running to the left on what seemed to be an endless stairs leading to Lyanna. They twisted endlessly and each step seemed to be higher than the last one. A cruel ploy of the Gods? Or my mind moving faster than my feet could carry me?

So much has happened in the last year. A combined force of North, Vale and Riverlands descended on Stoney Sept just in time to push back forces lead by Jon Connington. The new Hand. I didn't care what happened to the old one or what would happen to him. The fighting happened everywhere. In the streets, in the small alleys. In homes of common folk and even on the rooftops. Robert reappeared during the fighting after we arrived and readily joined in. Smashing knights and small folk in Connington's army with no distinction. His warhammer, made of dark steel, gleamed like a red sun. Ice showered the field with blood and man bits. Full swing bisecting men and horses, cutting through armor as easily as through flesh. A sept that overlooked the town, a sept for which this settlement was named after has never witness such carnage and bloodshed. I doubt it ever would again.

From there we made the Trident run red. After Robert joined us, we managed to quickly regroup. The morale was high and even I found myself in high spirits. Highest since the news. The timing couldn't be better. We heard of Rhaegar's reappearance and of him mustering an army in Duskendale. 40,000 soldiers on the side of Prince Rhaegar met in a thundering clash with 30,000 on our. We moved east from Stoney Sept and the Targaryen prince moved north.

The tales will describe this battle endlessly as will the bards who will make countless songs. If anyone asked Ned what happened during the battle, he would have little to say. He remembers charging on the horse in a vanguard. He was one of the first to shed blood. At some point he fell and for the rest of the battle he found himself on foot, killing any Targaryen soldier within his reach. The battle seemed to be endless as if he could make a mountain of corpses from men, climb it and look from its top and still not find the end of it. Yet when the rubies flew off Rhaegar's armor and his chest was caved in by mighty Baratheon swing, Ned knew it was the end.

The world learned about Robert's fury.

And when we reached King's Landing, only to witness it being sacked by House Lannister forces, the world learned about mine. Rhaegar was Robert's to kill. Aerys was mine.

Once again, the scenery passed like a blur.

We followed the path of destruction created by the lions.

I commended the vanguard all the way to Maegor's Holdfast where the fighting broke out once more. There were men of North, Vale and Riverlands with me. Even dozens loyal to the Westerlands joined us. Although their reasons were to inflict as much pain and obtain as much plunder as they could.

I ran through the halls and climbed stairs. I have never been in the throne room except every night when I slept. In my nightmares. But strangely I found myself on the correct path.

Dragon skulls.

Twisted, melted chair.

And Mad Aerys. The killer of my brother and father.

Dead. Murdered. _Not by me._

I find myself in shock. My body is still like a morning after blizzard, but the grip on my sword tightens in anger. The Lannister boy mocks me. _Are you gonna take it for yourself?_

I would sooner cut the Iron Throne in half.

King Aerys's death was necessary. Although it wasn't Jaime's to take. Soon Robert arrives and so does Lord Tywin with his gifts of fealty. Cloaks are draped over their corpses. _To hide the blood._ As if the sight of it was more offensive than the act itself.

Robert smiles and I rage. The world knows my fury too.

I reach the door and stop, pressing my head and hand to the warm oak. I gasp for air as if I was mile under sea. Was it the stairs or the thoughts of war that caused this? _Little Geralt gasps for air too._ I dream of it every night after hard days that take all my strength from me. _If he can go on then so can I._

I hear a scream, same scream that I heard at the base of the tower but a scream that is now much more clear. My sister Lyanna.

I burst through the door and am greeted my red. Bloody sheets. Bloody water. And bloody hands of midwives. _Princess Rhaenys's red hand peaked from under the cloak too._ Did anyone else remember that? I hope they did.

"Ned? Is that you?"

I rest Ice against the bed post and run to Lyanna's side. Everything is forgotten. The war. The memories of the battle before the tower. And even the fresh blood on Ice from Arthur Dayne can't bring back those memories to the forefront of my mind. I focus on Lyanna. I have tears in my eyes. I haven't cried tears since the night of the feast. "Lyanna, I'm here. I am finally here." I grasp her hand tightly, fearing she was just a mirage on Dornish soil and that I was dying in the desert, there and not here with her. She looks at me and her face contours with happiness, pain and worry. I press my forehead to hers before kissing it. She is cold.

Her face pale.

White like death, like bed sheets before they bled.

Was my Madeleine just as white?

"Are you really here? Are you a dream?"

"I'm here."

"I missed you big brother." Her face breaks away from momentary happiness back into fear. "I want to be brave." She clutches my hand hard. "But I'm not." She doesn't want to die. And I would slay dragons and gods to prevent her from dying. But I can't do anything. _This is what Brandon_ _must have_ _felt_ _like_ _when he struggled against leather cord. Powerless to save father._

This is a nightmare and I can't wake up.

I turn to the midwives and yell. They needed to help, to do what I could not but I could see it in their eyes that they were as helpless as I. First stood ashamed. The other stared at the bundle in her hands with a sad look. Lyanna's voice beckoned my attention as she spoke her words to my ear.

Her last words.

"Promise me Ned...Promise me." I couldn't look away from the bundle. "Robert will kill him..."

A child's cry filled the room and a woman carries the child to me. I look at Lyanna. She lowered her head toward the pillow and look toward the ceiling. Eyelids heavy.

"Promise me Ned."

* * *

283 AC- Winterfell, North

Eddard

It was a lifetime ago that I was last here. Winterfell was my home. It didn't stop being my home even when I fostered in Vale with Lord Arryn. I thought I would return to it with happy memories and as a man with Madeleine on my arm. Instead I return with ashes of my father, bones of my brother and a body of my sister on a wagon behind me. My family traveled behind me like ghosts. Calling on to me for all my failures. Yet despite all of this I was happy to be here.

The war has ended.

In death Lyanna has brought Robert and myself closer again. All anger seemed disappear between us as we mourned for Lyanna together. We were brothers once more. Lyanna's death was fresh on my mind. I tucked the tiny red hand under the cloak. Out of sight.

"Open the gates for Lord Stark!"

A call went out and slowly the creaking began. The gears turned and muscle strained and the gates of winter lifted. All of my bannermen have went home at this point. The further through the North we traveled, the more of my companions I seemed to have lost until only my personal guard and a wet nurse remained.

And Jon.

I rode in to the courtyard, servants and men at arms waited there for me. Waiting to greet me. I took a quick look around and found everything to be running in proper order. I was a Lord now. Lord of a great castle and vast lands. _All of this was suppose to be Brandon's._ Catelyn's management of household duties could only be admired. Any lord would be jealous. She waited for him with a bundle in her hands and happiness in her eyes.

I found myself happy to see her too.

She held in her arms my son Robb with whom she traveled to Winterfell right after giving birth. I have never seen Robb. This was the second birth of my children that I wasn't there for. How many more would be born like this?

I got off the horse and approached. "Lady Stark."

She smiled at me and curtsied. "Lord Stark. Winterfell is yours." She handed me the babe. He had a tuft of red-brown hair and blue eyes. I placed my finger in his hand and he grasped it immediately. Strong, healthy. After a moment I smiled and looked away from Robb to Catelyn. "Robb is a good name." I hide my joy well.

"It's after the King Robert. Your friend." I smiled. I leaned in and gave her a kiss on a corner of her mouth.

"Thank you."

"There is also someone else here for you, Ned", she moved to the side. From behind her came Benjen. Has it been a lifetime since I last seen him? It certainly felt like it. He was slightly bent over as he held onto a hand of a toddler. His hair was black, his face pudgy and long. His eyes were gray. I kneeled to the ground as the boy let go of his uncle's hand and took a few steps forward and stood in front of me.

Geralt.

This was Catelyn's surprise.

I had my own.

"He was sick for months after Lady Stark died. Maester of the castle though he would die from coughing sickness any day. But he didn't. His lungs grew strong and traveled by ship to White Harbor when maester proclaimed he was out of danger." Benjen sounded as I remembered him. When I returned from Dorne with Lyanna and Jon, many ravens awaited me. For months the army traveled and fought and no raven has reached me. But it was on my return to King's Landing that I received good news. Geralt's condition was improving. As I began my march to the North, last raven spoke of how Geralt may soon be strong enough to travel with Ser Waynwood's party. I didn't think he would arrive here before me.

I looked into Geralt's eyes and he looked into mine. I held out my hands. "Come here son." He took step and fell into my arms and I tightened my grip around him before standing up and lifting him with me. I kissed his head and smelled his hair. He was finally more real that any version of him I had in my dreams.

That moment quickly ended.

"Ned, whose child is that?" I opened my eyes and kneeled down to let go of Geralt as he quickly regained his balance and looked toward the wet nurse and Jon behind me. I looked at Catelyn.

"This is Jon. He is my blood."

Geralt laughs and proceeded to kick me in the shin.

* * *

Author Notes:

This is a starting introduction of Geralt to ASOIAF universe. There will be some elements of Witcher universe. Main character obviously, for starters.

-Geralt born in 282 AC. A month or so after Ned left to rally the North.

\- Jon and Robb are both born in 283 AC. Robb is 3 months older than Jon.

-Madeleine was one of the daughters of Ser Elys Waynwood. Married to Ned in 280 AC. Died in 283 AC from illness.

I need a **beta reader** who would be interested in proofreading and making some fixes to the story. I am proficient in English but it is my second language so there are some very simple things that go over my head and I don't notice. The 'a' and 'the' are often placed in unnecessary places. I need someone whose English is a first language. Please PM me if you are interested.

Please **REVIEW** if you enjoyed the chapter. Please leave constructive criticism and tell me what you think.

Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2: Hard Lessons

**Disclaimer** : I don't own anything.

Author Note: Some people expressed their frustration and worry with Geralt not being, well… a Witcher that we know and love. He has no powers right now and his coloring is off.

Please note that this isn't Geralt being dropped from Witcher universe to ASOIAF universe. He hasn't gone through any trials and those don't exist in this world, which means he will go about acquiring his past abilities in some other way. This has to occur in a believable fashion using rules of ASOIAF because this is the universe we are residing in. Any other characters with abilities that originate from Witcher world, if they show up in the story, would have to acquire their abilities naturally in some way as well. It all has to make sense within the context of this universe.

Having said that...be patient folks. I want Geralt to become his badass Witcher self as well, but not at the expense of the plot. I have it planned out. By chapter 5 or 6 you will see Geralt become more like the Geralt we know and love.

On to the story.

* * *

 **Geralt of Winterfell**

Chapter 2: Hard Lessons

* * *

289 AC- Winterfell, North

Geralt

I whirled a wooden training sword in my left hand before moving it behind my back and catching it with my right as I took a stance. My left foot slid forward over the smooth stone that made up the training ground while the right one stayed back. Loaded, prepared to launch me forward at moment's notice. Like loaded scorpion ballistas on castle walls, ready to fire at brave men trying to breach its walls

A man must strive to become a fortress, a thing that is insurmountable to all.

He will spend his entire life building it up.

 _I am laying down my foundations._

I couldn't help but to smile. I didn't have to look to my left to know that Ser Rodrick Cassel, who my father appointed as master-at-arms at Winterfell, disapproved of my theatrics. He was a stout man and knowledgeable when it came to teaching basics and knocking sense into cocky children, but I don't think he was prepared for the task my father gave him.

Teaching me.

I don't think father hated the man. Rather I suspect he like him. Fought along side him in Robert's Rebellion. War forms bonds peace can only hope to make. It's as if war could fan flames to impossible heights where two men could forge a bond made of castle forge steel. My Father and the King were one such example.

Strange reward. Then again, _Lady Catelyn did her duty and father rewarded her with Jon._

I was over-thinking it. I am not a bad child, certainly not a punishment for Ser Rodrick or any other caretakers to endure. But I was unbending. Curious of old tales of magic, Old Gods and things beyond the Wall. Things no child my age should rightly be drawn too. But I couldn't help myself.

 _I thought being wolf-blooded was something to be praised for in Winterfell._ Apparently not.

He had began my tutelage only two years back when winter truly reigned over the entirety of Westeros, burying the land and the forests in white coat and assaulting every men and women with its ferocious winds irregardless whether they lived in houses made of wood or castles made of stone. Wind fought its way into the every home of every men like it was some angry vengeful spirit bend on snatching their children away. And it did.

 _Even children of lords died during winter from its chill behind their walls. Winter could only be endured. Not conquered._

In the mountains it was said that snow could fall endlessly, creating snow banks almost hundred feet high. In the plains the snow was more manageable. If a lord wanted to have access to his roads, he would have to clear them with diligence and on regular basis. Otherwise roads, dirty paths and even goat trails would be swallowed in some places by as much as ten to fifteen feet of white death.

The white raven arrived from Citadel in Oldtown. Some city in a south, in some southern kingdom.

 _I wasn't interested in the south. I was young and the North was vast. I wasn't finished pouring over its wonders yet._

It proclaimed boldly the end of winter and beginning of spring, yet the words weren't worth the parchment they were written on. Even after a year, it still snowed on occasion and at any moment I would only need to look out from any window in the castle, in any direction to see that the North was still covered in a few inches of snow.

But the weather was getting warmer and slowly spring began its slow journey from the south to the north. A hard battle. Seldom won. The new and old Gift only see spring, rarely full summers.

My smile grew and I twirled the wooden sword in my hand in a playful fashion. Giving plenty of openings to those that dared. My opponents were certainly daring. We were of same blood. "Come on little brothers. Am I to stand here till I am struck by old age instead of being struck by your sword? Or are you waiting for summer to pass and for winter to come? Will I die of night chill, have my fingers, toes and nose turn black and fall off before dropping my sword in defeat. It would seem so. You haven't touched me yet. Attack, before father sees."

Jon and Robb stood before me. They joined me in my lessons with Ser Rodrick only six months ago. On my father's orders, though I doubt Lady Stark was happy. Her reluctance for Robb to pick up a sword and train came not from being overprotective. She knew better. She came from a Great House. A lordly house in the south where acquiring a title of a knight meant something. She was not naive, she knew her history and history of Westeros has always been filled with blood of the weak.

 _And of the innocent._

Both in the north and south.

The best way to protect Robb from any future harm was for him to earn his bruises and cuts and for him to learn from them as quickly as he could. Pain that quickly fades was a worthy payment for keeping death at bay. Even if it ultimately proved to be an impossible task. All men die. Instead her reluctance came with the knowledge that Jon would join him and me in said training. She couldn't stand Jon though she tried to hid it from her children.

Another impossible task. _Children are more observant than_ _sentries standing at arms length_ _from_ _enemy troops._ Father either didn't notice or ignored Jon's treatment. Perhaps he had set an invisible line. If Lady Stark didn't cross it then he would not act. He cared for Jon afterall, he brought him to be raised together with us in his household. Geralt didn't understand. Either you care or you don't.

 _There should be no half measures in this instance._ But it wasn't his role to doubt his father. Only to preserve his honor and his own.

 _Obey him and do my duty._

Jon was a grand surprise that father brought with him from the war. Lady Stark saw him as some great shame done on to her that she could not shake off or hide away. She treated me fairly and well.

 _But I had Father's name, and Jon did not._

She silently resented me for treating him like the rest of my siblings. For loving him like I loved Robb. She thought I was being difficult or that I was too little to comprehend what he was. But I knew.

 _He is my half-brother. Same as Robb. Both are my half-brothers._

Only Jon didn't have a mother. But neither did I.

Jon was the first one to recover from the sting of my sword and rushed at me, but he appeared to be more calm and observant than he was minutes ago when I threw him to the ground. He tried different things, gears were spinning in his head. I could almost see them. He tested my left and tried to poke me on my right, to see my reaction, to gauge my stance. He was testing me in a way that Lady Stark often tested his sanity. Or in a way a man would poke at a cornered animal, knowing that at this moment a cornered beast was at its most dangerous.

 _I am a Direwolf from old northern tales._ The kind from Old Nan's stories.

But he was right to do so. He learned to be cautious. And he will learn when to be brave. He felt the sting of my blade. He memorized the pain it had cause. A wooden sword may not cut but it can kill. It is solid oak; the handle and the dull blade are shaped out of one piece. The only addition is the leather straps that wraps around the handle for comfort and grip. If I take my hand and run it around the edges of the blade nothing would happen. It is dull and smooth. I wouldn't receive a splinter for my troubles.

But to get hit with the side of the blade is like receiving a spanking from Old Nan. To get slashed is to receive a burn that would itch for a week, reminding the wearer that had it been real steel, it would be much worse than an itch. And a stab from its dull point could knock a breath out of a grown man. And if swung madly, it could bludgeoned a grown adult to death. Despite their dangers, they offered important lessons.

 _Don't get hit. That's your opponents job_ , Ser Rodrick said once.

Worthy words to live by.

But our safety was important and not worthy of jeopardizing for a lesson so we wore heavy padding. But padding can't cover everything. _That's where you hit, little brothers. You attack the weakness. You exploit to its fullest and you end it. Always end it._ I used the flat of my sword to slap Jon on his sword hand after he managed to hit nothing but air and left himself overextended and overexposed. He dropped his sword and I rushed in close. I shoved him and prevented him from regaining his balance by stepping on his toes. He tumbled down in awkward manner.

 _I cut his strings._

"Ser Rodrick taught you not to show your back, brother!" Robb charged from behind with his sword held high. _He also taught you not to charge like this. Or give away your advantage so easily._ Not that it would have helped him. I knew where he was. I learned not to lose track of my opponents or brothers during our spars. Another important lesson. I blocked his strike and countered attacked immediately which he managed to block with some effort. He may have stopped that attack but its job was accomplished. His hand flew upward from the force of the blow, his arm no doubt ringing like a bell. Making his bones rattle. But he held on to his blade. I felt proud. Robb couldn't have done that one month ago.

I decide to move in for the kill. I thrust my sword to his neck and rush in. To onlookers it would appear as if the sword was still and swinging me around, because after the thrust it was my body that moved and not the sword. _Any fighter would see a sword this close to their face and panic. But the blade is a distraction. Its just a weapon. The real danger is the man with the will to kill._ The blade rested inches from his neck and I pivoted myself under his sword arm, which he still hasn't managed to bring down since I blew his guard away. I moved until I was behind him, grabbed the padding on his left shoulder with my free hand and held him in place with my sword to his neck.

Ser Rodrick pronounced the end of today's practice.

Jon managed to make his way on his feet and Robb dropped his sword and gave a heavy sigh. I padded him on a head. "What's wrong brother? This is unlike you."

Robb picked up his sword and made his way to the wall where we would hang our swords and padding. Jon and I followed him. You don't disrespect your equipment.

 _Victories depend on preparation just as much as they do on skill._

"What's wrong? We lost. Again. I was sure we would win this time. Ser Rodrick never let us fight two-on-one against you before so I though things would be different. But you beat us both. It's discouraging brother."

I chuckled to myself as Jon raised both of his arms in the air and I helped him take of his padding. I was tall for my age. And certainly taller than them. "Ser Rodrick wanted you to learn your basics. You practiced your stance. Jumping from one to another under his command as if you were dancing. You hit dummies countless times to get you used to your weapons. To strengthen you. And to teach you how to swing. People get cocky when they outnumber their opponents. They lose focus and forget their basics. Never forget your basics, brother. Ser Rodrick didn't want you to start swinging your sword half haphazardly only days after you finally began to grasp your lessons just because you had Jon to help you against me. It was best to wait. Lessons like these, they seep into your bones and stay there for a lifetime. Now you and Jon can fight me together. And you will never forget your lessons. Or you will be reminded of them with a sting from my sword."

My explanation didn't suit him as he made a face. It looked similar to the one he made when I fed him a lemon from Dorne to look at his reaction. He was three years old. I was four. I still remember that day.

 _If war could forge powerful bonds between strangers, then these quiet moments of peace could strengthen ours._

"Well, I still thought we would win."

"Geralt always wins", Jon offered his opinion. Stating it like a fact. Like old men who say that the Wall has always been and always will be. But that's not true. Triumphs have to be earned with hard work.

 _Bran the Builder raised the Wall in a spot where it didn't exist before. Let no man take his accomplishment from him_. _No matter what age we live in._

Ser Rodrick came from behind us and patted Jon and Robb on the back. He learned plenty from teaching me as I did from him. He knew how to teach them hard lessons and keep them coming for more.

"Your brother is older than you both. And he has outstanding talent when it comes to using weapons. But you will learn quick and you will grow strong." He looked toward me and placed his hand on my head before making a mess of my hair. "And if you don't pick up your brother's bad habits of playing with swords then you both will learn quickly and leave him in the dust. Left to take lessons from you instead of dishing out his own." Having said that as he left us to ourselves to get some rest.

A well deserved rest.

Ser Rodrick was right. I had an outstanding talent. My mind and hands were quick. Even Father said so once. High praise from him. He would sometimes tell us stories from the war. One of the stories we wanted to hear the most was about his duel with Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard. People called him Sword of the Morning and claimed he was the strongest knight of his time.

 _And father defeated him._

Father never talked about him. Or how he beat him. I wondered if I would gain the strength one day to defeat warriors like Ser Arthur. I was strong for my age and tall. I was able to nock an arrow on a bow that was used by men twice my age and shoot it perfectly at 50 yards. The first arrow would hit the center. The second would hit the first. Splitting it in vicious manner. The third would miss terribly; my arm would shake from the exertion. I haven't been able to shoot three in quick succession. Yet. I still considered it a great accomplishment.

I handled swords like I was born to yield them. The basics of how to move, evade and attack were quickly mastered by me. Ser Rodrick would scold me till the end of my days for the ways I tested new moves and tried daring tactics, but the truth was that I was bored. Wooden sword were a cheap imitation of the real steel and the only reason daily practice was tolerable was because I got to teach my brothers. Help them get stronger. I could live with offering them my days.

But the nights were for myself. I would sneak out during dark night when the night looked like it was robbed by some godly thief of all its stars and moon. I would try real steel and practice in the Godswood. I was talented but not foolish. Man must practice his trade if he wants to excel in it. It was true for traders, masons or fighters. I practiced mine. _Although I'm not a man yet._ But when I become one I will be a Lord and Lord's trade was war. To an extend.

It's best to practice now.

No one knew about my nightly escapades. Only the Old Gods. They watched me from the heart trees. Silent.

The Old Gods had no holy texts. No priests claiming to their authority. No songs of worship and no rites. Yet from generation to generation men swore oaths before them, before Gods, to bind their words and help them carry their promises. Father prayed before the heart tree in castle's Godswood. So did all his sons, and even little Sansa would come to play. Only Lady Stark preyed to the Seven, she and her septa.

 _My mother took the Old Gods as her own when she married father. They married in front of a weirwood tree with a face curved by the Children of the Forest from the age long forgotten._

One day, I too will marry in front of the same Gods.

We walked back together. I looked up at the sky. The sun was at its highest point. We have been practicing with each other and with hay filled dummies for hours at this point. We made the decision to head toward the kitchens to grab a cold drink and food to sate our hunger, but on our way there we were stopped near the stables.

Father and Lady Stark stood together. A company of men behind them.

Lady Stark look radiant and beautiful. Last time she looked like this she was pregnant with Sansa. And now she was pregnant again. "Couple more months", Maester Luwin would say. Couple more months and I would have another brother or sister.

I was overjoyed.

My father's eyes zeroed in on mine and he called me to his side. "Get a horse from the stables." He handed me sheathed Ice. I nodded and grabbed it with two hands. Valyrian steel made it much lighter than it would have been if it was made instead from castle forged steel. You could swing it faster than a steel sword and with its sharpness it has ended brave men's lives for generations. Yet it was still heavy. It was a greatsword after all. I will need both hands to secure it to the saddle. Hodor wouldn't do it. He was afraid of weapons and didn't touch them. But Hodor helped me with lifting the saddle onto a horse and securing it in place. He was a friendly giant.

"Hodor. Hodor. Hodor"

He said. I nodded and thanked him. I rode toward the gate. I knew where we were going the second I saw Ice and the look in my father's eyes. Ice will take another man's life tonight. Another name added to its endless list of vanquished men. And I will carry the sword until father needs it. This was a new duty that Father assigned to me. Less than a year ago.

No words were exchanged as we slowly rode toward the designated execution ground. It was not far from the castle. Yet still private. The party only consisted of my father, myself, two guards that I knew and an unknown man. He rode on a horse without restrains.

 _A brave man. Though it was too early to judge. You can learn man's true worth by observing how he faces death. With his head held high or as a coward._

I took a deep breath. The air tasted sweet. I always loved the times when I could get way from the castle. I loved Winterfell, but its walls sometimes suffocated me. The North was large and I wanted to explore it, discover its nooks and crannies for myself. But my time away from the castle was limited to leisure rides, training on horse back, occasional hunt and executions.

I blamed winter for it. But winter has almost left us and nothing change.

 _I'm young and not a man. Father will not let me roam._

Father had a hand in educating all his children. It was he and Maester Luwin that insured that they got their full education; education beyond simple numbers and letters. But I found myself fortunate spending time with Father, even under such circumstances. I had him all to myself. I have found that he taught me more about honor and life through simple conversations than any book in library. He reminisced on the past and answered my questions. Sometimes his answers possessed deep meaning that would only be revealed to me weeks later.

Not only did I learn from him but I also learned things about him that no one with exception of Lady Catelyn knew.

Like his hate for Tywin Lannister.

For his acts of betrayal and murder of children.

I knew of Lord Tywin through my lessons. All men feared him even if they chose not to respect him. He was a dangerous man. Ruthless when necessary.

Father's dislike of him was absolute. But a small part of me admired him for his principles.

 _Something I would never admit to Father._

Tywin cast his honor away when he entered King's Landing under the flag of friendship and sacked it. He forever lost his chance of regaining his honor when he presented bodies of Targaryen children before King Robert. But I knew my history. The Starks didn't hold the North for over 8,000 years because they were always beloved by every folk and house in the North. Kings of Winter were hard. North gave birth to strong men. Starks put plenty of castles to torch and cut down entire families over millenniums that our house has ruled- from the oldest to the youngest.

 _But we never displayed our deeds as gifts to Kings. Took sick pride in them. Some deeds needed to be done, but taking pleasure from them is unnecessary. An affront to the Gods. To common decency._

It was Tywin's handling of Reyne-Tarbeck rebellion and not his deeds during the last war that made me reluctantly acknowledge him. Not as a man of honor. But as a man who had his rules and lived by them.

 _No half measures. Some things can't be cut in half. You can't half-love someone. You can't half-betray, or half-lie._

 _Or half-kill._

It was one of many lessons that Ser Rodrick drilled into us during practice. "You have to mean every strike" _,_ he would say. Tywin applied that theory on a larger scale like hundreds of lords and petty kings before him. I saw no need to judge him.

The execution was a quick affair. The man broke down and pleaded for his life just as every criminal at every execution I was present at did before him.

 _A brave man didn't die today._

 _Only a coward._

The guards took care of the body while my Father handed me Ice. I wiped it clean of blood and with some effort placed it back in its sheath and onto my horse. We rode back into the castle in silence. Father didn't ask me if I was alright. I have seen enough men beheaded by him to let such things upset me.

 _This was our way. The man that passes the sentence swings the sword._ I was proud to have a Father who followed North's ways with such diligence.

I took one last glance at the vast plains. They were endless. I could see endless green of grass in every direction and forests to the west. I loved this land. One day I would travel every corner of it. I loved Old Nan's stories as a child. Still do. Tales of the North, of the land that we inherited through the strength of our arms. She now told them mostly to Sansa, but I joined her every time I could.

My little sister was frightened by the tales of Giants, Children of the Forest and White Walkers. But I was fascinated. I wondered if such things still existed in our world. Or did magic truly leave and rob us of their wonders?

 _Do the First Men look at us from the heart trees in sadness? They knew all of the North's secrets. And we do not._

I would look for the Children and for the Giants when I got older. But I knew none resided on this side of the Wall. "Magic is dead. And Children of the Forest with it", that's what Maester Luwin would say. I begrudgingly didn't argue. He was a learned man. Wise as he was old. And he was old.

Father said that the only things that remained from Children's time were the weirwood tree and the faces they carved onto them.

 _I would see for myself._ I always wanted to visit the Wall. And see the Far North beyond it. A trip there would not only sate my child like wonder and curiosity but hopefully challenge me. Those lands were harsh as they were vast.

 _Could I survive and thrive there like the Wildlings could?_

I wanted to know. The question burned in my mind.

We arrived at the stables in no time at all. I handed my Father the family sword and he quickly departed. Maester Luwin was waiting for us when we arrived and left with him. He looked worried and my father noticed it as immediately as I did. Without a doubt they left to talk in the castle proper, in Father's private chambers and rooms.

I went to the kitchens and ate. I took my time. My lessons with maester Luwin were canceled and I found myself catching up on few books in my room and exploring the castle. It wasn't exploring as much as walking. I knew all the secrets Winterfell had to offer. I spent my afternoon being thoroughly bored. That is until the news and gossip began to spread through the castle like some contagious disease. Afflicting everyone in sight.

I couldn't believe what I heard.

Lannister ships burned down at anchor in Lannisport. Greyjoys attack under a cover of night with their Iron Fleet and left behind them a great blaze.

 _I wonder if you were to look from Casterly Rock, did the blaze look like a sun rising over the coast or a small flicker of light? I knew that Casterly Rock stood tall. Taller than all._

The implication and the significance of this attack were not lost on me. This was not an attack against the West but an open challenge against King Robert. With the torches they tossed on Lannister ships they have proclaimed King Robert weak. Westeros divided and incapable of stopping them.

This was not the sort of mockery that Baratheon king would allow. I was sure of it.

 _Just as I was sure that Father would ride to help his friend weather this storm._

War was brewing.

Closer I got to my Father's study the louder voices got. It was my Father and his lady wife. They were in a middle of a booming argument. Castle walls shook. I knew why she was upset. Father will go off to war. For the second time. Lady Catelyn will be left behind, again. And she was with child. Again.

 _This is almost exactly what happened during the last war._ I could only wonder if Father would bring her another surprise.

I was not far away from the door when Father stormed out. He quickly spotted me and motioned for me to follow him. It suited me just fine. It was my intention to speak to him after I heard the gossip. We walk step by step. I waited for him to say something. I didn't want to break the silence. I knew that Father relished quiet moments. He was the only man I knew that did not feel it was necessary to fill ever second with noise. We made it outside and father brought me to the walls. We climbed the stairs and made it to the top. The wall we were on faced toward the West.

"Have you heard what happen? The news every kitchen wench, servant and guard whispers about when they think I can't hear them?" My father looked at the horizon as he spoke.

 _How could I not?_

"Yes, Father. Greyjoys are in open rebellion. Iron Islands have raised their sword against the Iron Throne in open challenge. And the Lannister fleet rests at the bottom of the Sunset Sea."

"Aye. They do." Silence befell us once more. He sigh deeply.

"Robert has called for his banners. This is not a challenge he can or would want to refuse. If he fails, Westeros will fall apart and Iron Throne would mean nothing. The Crownlands ride with him. Lord Tully's host gathers at Seagard and Tywin has deployed his forces to defend the coast. As will the Reach and the North."

"Will the North defend or attack? Are we calling the bannermen to arms?"

He nodded.

"Yes. I will march west. I just finished sending ravens with Maester Luwin. In the end, it will be the North, the West, the Riverlands, the Crownlands and Stormlands that will sent their soldiers and make up majority of King's swords."

I smiled. What a sight that would be. I never seen that many men in my life. "Then the rebellion will be short and painful for the Ironborn. King Robert and you, Father, will make them reap what they have sowed. Despite their words. They can't withstand such a host."

He look at me. "Ironborn are lords of the sea. Until King's brother arrived with the royal fleet there is little that can be done." He lectured me. Another lesson. I didn't mind. I wanted to learn more.

"I will be gone. I plan on riding out with the host. They will gather and come to Winterfell and the rest will join us as we head south past Moat Cailin." A legendary fortress. It halted the Andal invasions. Father has been slowly rebuilding it ever since winter ended. Another site worthy of a visit when it becomes fully restored. Twenty tall towers it would have once more. A great black walls. The entire structure would stand on the Neck. It strangled any invader. And it would do so in the future.

I felt father rest his hand on my shoulder. I snapped back from my thoughts and looked back at him.

"Listen. When I am gone, you will be the Lord of Winterfell. It will be your responsibility. You will have help from Maester Luwin and my wife. There will be a lot to do. Arranging supply lines and daily duties. But you will-"

I interrupted my father. _I never done that before._

The words that escaped my mouth sounded ridiculous, even to me. "Take me with you Father." He stared at me as if he misheard. I saw him trying to process my words but I didn't let up. "Take me with you. There will be plenty of time for me to learn about being a lord. Your lady wife and Maester Luwin don't need me. I want to go. I want to gain my own experiences so that when I am called to fight in a war I will be prepared. I will stay out of the way. Back in the camp when you lead men. I promise. I can be your page. Serve the lords their drinks, fetch you letters and-"

My father caught me off just as I have done. _I shouldn't have done it in the first place._ He looked at me as if I lost my head. Was I making a fool out of myself?

"Absolutely not."

And...that was that. He didn't sound angry with me but his tone said what he wanted to say. It was icy. Like the Wall. You could argue with it till you become hoarse in the throat, but the Wall doesn't move. Not for any man.

Certainly not for a green boy.

In the coming weeks I saw countless lords arrive with their levies. Lord Glover arrived from Deepwood Motte. Their sigil was a clenches fist over a red field. House Mormont arrived from Bear Island led by Jorah Mormont. A rising star of their house. Slowly more banners and sigils could be seen from the windows of my room. House Umber arrived shortly after only to be followed by House Karstark. Bolton came soon after with their flayed man banners. I could see the banners of northern mountain clans. It was rare for them to leave their mountain keeps but banners belonging to House Wull, House Norrey and others could not be mistaken. The houses brought their forces and forces of houses sworn to them. As did House Stark.

The Grey direwolf banner was the most numerous. And it flew the highest.

It only took a month for the soldiers to reach Winterfell. _Father's foresight to fix_ _and build_ _roads was proven to have paid off. Jaehaerys Targaryen would_ _have_ _be_ _en_ _proud._

I made my way to the courtyard. Today Father would leave for the campaign. Lady Catelyn was there with Robb and Sansa. Even Jon was present. I made my way and stood amongst them. Father arrived on horse from the stables. Surrounded by his best and bravest men. All ready to set off.

A crowd gathered around the family. We were all here to see him off and wish him a safe journey and speedy return.

"Winterfell is yours", was all he said as he looked from the horse at us. I though his eyes would zero in on me as if to challenge and crush any last minute protests that I might have raised. I wasn't foolish enough to do that. Disrespect my Father in front of the entire castle. Argue with him like a child I was. It wouldn't happen. His eyes surveyed the whole crowd.

I was prepared to answer him but was interrupted.

"As you wish brother." It was a familiar voice. My head whipped to the side with such speed that I was surprised I didn't snap it. Uncle Benjen stood there. Not to far from us. He wore his black cloak. Like legendary members of the Night's Watch I read about in my books. I didn't know he would be here.

Before I could greet or question him or do anything I was interrupted by Father.

"Geralt", he called out and I fixed my gaze back at him. His face look more serious than usual. He undid some leather straps from his saddle and threw a sword in front of my feet. It was a bastard sword. It was still to big for me. More appropriate for someone on the cusp of manhood. The blade was sheathed but near the handle it peaked out to the world like a curious child. It was steel.

Sharp and deadly.

I looked up from the sword back to Father.

His horse seemed like it was in a hurry as it snorted and shook its head.

"Pick it up and hurry. If want a lesson on war then I will teach you."

My eyes went wide.

"A lesson on hard truths."

* * *

Author Notes: Chapter 2 is done. I struggled with this chapter. Next chapter will be the Greyjoy Rebellion.

Write me a review if you liked it or have a criticism. Or if you want the next chapter out faster. ;-)

PM for questions.

Goodbye


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